


We’ll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet

by insomnia1999



Series: Holiday Spirits [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic AU, angel au, bucky is an angel, not remotely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6306013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomnia1999/pseuds/insomnia1999
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Bucky go ice skating during their never ending Christmas Eve, and Tony tells Bucky a story to cheer him up. </p>
<p>AKA </p>
<p>"The watering can story"<br/> </p>
<p>This story takes place between Chapters 19 and 20 of “Light the Lamp, Not the Rat.” While reading that story would be helpful, it is not <i>entirely</i> necessary to enjoy this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We’ll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cyanide-to-the-masses](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cyanide-to-the-masses).



> In Chapter 16 of “Light the Lamp, Not the Rat,” Tony tells Bucky “Remind me to tell you the watering can story sometime.” 
> 
> My wonderful beta, [cyanide-to-the-masses](http://cyanide-to-the-masses.tumblr.com) asked if I was going to write Tony’s story. So I finally did. :)
> 
> If you don’t feel like reading the longer fic, just know that Bucky is an Angel who has lost his wings, his left arm and most of his memories. 
> 
> He and Tony are living (by choice) in a world that is magically time-stopped on Christmas Eve, each for their own reasons. 
> 
>  
> 
> The title is a line from the poem/song “For Auld Lang Syne” by Robert Burns.

  


Tony Time™: 31 Days: 13 hours: 22 minutes 

  


Tony ducked under the board serving as the counter of the concession stand and grabbed a couple of paper cups off the stack near the urn. 

He had to maneuver a little around the woman running the stand. She’d obviously stepped to the side to get a better view of some skaters and frozen there when time stopped. 

Tony touched the coffee urn with one hand while holding the cup with the other and was rewarded with a cup of steaming coffee. 

He still couldn’t figure out how all of this was working. Why did the urn unfreeze just because he was touching it? He hadn’t really put any will behind it. Not like a few minutes ago, when he’d managed to salvage a triple flip out on the ice. That had been pure Force. 

Tony put his cup on the counter and glanced up, eyes zeroing in on James. He was still laying on his back under the big pine tree. Tony sighed. He needed to fix this, but how? Emotions like this were just not his forte. 

This was the third week they’d spent dating in this little frozen world. Tony had thought going ice skating would be romantic. He used to love skating. It was a perfect combination of the physical and physics - inertia, friction and the conservation of angular momentum. He’d skated a lot in college, but not much since. He’d really thought it was something James might like. Turns out, not so much. 

If James had ever been ice skating, he couldn’t remember it. Just like everything else. So Tony had tried to teach him, and he’d been getting the basics really well. Until he’d tried to copy Tony’s spin. 

With only one arm for balance, it hadn’t gone well. James had ended up crashing into one of the frozen skaters and fallen hard. Then, he’d stomped off the ice and thrown himself down under the tree, making one arm snow angels. 

Tony sighed and filled a cup from the pitcher of hot chocolate. He added a huge head of whipped cream and ohh... _‘Nice,’_ he thought as he added a generous helping of chocolate sprinkles on top. 

He set the cup down and stuffed a couple hundred dollars in the tip jar. _‘Have to remember to get more cash out of the safe when we get home,’_ he thought. 

He picked up the cups and headed back over to James. 

James was still, laying on his back, staring at a cardinal frozen mid-flight a few feet up. He was pouting, that adorable little one he got when he was frustrated. 

Tony nudged his foot, holding out the chocolate. He’d already drunk most of his coffee on the way over. 

James sighed and sat up, reaching for the cup. Tony sat down next to him, once again wondering why he didn’t feel cold even though he was sitting on the snow only dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Or why the snowflakes on his skin only melted if he looked at them, but the ones on James never seemed to. This whole thing was too weird. 

James took a long drink of his chocolate and made a happy noise. From the look on his face, he hadn’t meant to. James frowned harder, as if trying to make up for it. It was just too adorable. 

Tony smiled. _‘I’ve really got it bad,’_ he thought. And why not? He was dating a genuine Angel. 

“What?” James groused. “What are you smilin’ at?” 

“Nothing,” Tony said. “Absolutely nothing.” 

James sighed. He set aside his drink and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Tony knew that was a bad sign. If James was ignoring chocolate, this had to be about more than just one clumsy fall on the ice. 

“Sorry,” James said. “I didn’t mean to ruin our date. I just... I guess I’m just not used to moving like that without my arm. I mean, I should be right? It’s been a hundred years. Why can’t...” 

James’s hand came up and started rubbing his left shoulder, and Tony knew it must be hurting him. He scooted around so he could rub it for James and tried to use the Force on it. He’d been doing that a lot lately, trying to see if it would help. He hated the idea of James in pain. He reached out, rubbing James’s shoulder through his henley, and he felt James shiver. Even though Tony never felt cold, James always did. 

Tony rubbed harder, digging his thumbs in, and felt James start to relax a little. He had no idea what was wrong with James’s shoulder, or how to heal an Angel. How did you heal a being who said he was actually a form of energy? Even if he’d once been human, the rules had to be different. Did he need physical healing? More energy? Less energy? A different wavelength? Maybe it wasn’t about energy at all. 

But James had said that if Tony was going to using the Force, it was intent that mattered. Tony placed both hands over the cold spot on James’s back and thought as hard as he could, trying to feel that connection in his mind. _‘James is getting exactly what he needs right now to be healthy - whatever it is,’_ he thought. He concentrated, believed in it, knew it was true... and he felt the connection snap into place. 

He didn’t know what it was, or where it came from, but warmth and light poured out his palms and into James’s shoulder. He could feel James relax under his hands, and James made a muffled moan. 

“Oh, doll,’” he sighed. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.” 

Tony leaned in and kissed James on the ear. “As long as you need,” he whispered. He felt James shiver again, and from the way he shifted, it wasn’t because of the cold. 

They sat like that for a while, until the light and heat suddenly sputtered out. 

“Ah, damn,” Tony said. “Sorry. Got distracted. Let me try-” 

James grabbed his hand. “No, it’s OK,” he said. “I’m good now. Thanks.” 

“Anytime,” Tony sighed. He moved around so they were sitting side-by-side, holding hands. Tony didn’t think he’d ever held hands with someone so much in his life. He’d always thought it was cheesy, corny. But then, he’d never had a relationship like this before. 

“You know,” Tony finally said, “I could make you a new arm. And not just any prosthetic – I’m talking sensory input. Temperature, pressure, you name it. And it wouldn’t just-” 

“No,” James said irritably. “Just no. I don’t want a fake arm.” 

“But you haven’t seen what I can-” 

“I said no!” James snapped. 

Tony leaned back and bit his lip. He knew this had to be a tough subject for James, but that had still stung. 

James made a small noise and gripped Tony’s hand tighter. He turned, making sure to look Tony in the eyes. Tony could see the regret on his face. 

“Oh,” he sighed. “I am so sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean to snap at you, I swear. And I appreciate the offer, I do. I’m sure you could make me the best arm in the world. It’d have all the bells and whistles. I just...” 

James let go of Tony’s hand to run it through his hair, pulling on the ends. 

“It’s just,” James continued, his icy blue eyes looking into the distance, “I should be able to regrow my _own_ arm. If I could just find my Grace, I could replace it in a second. I shouldn’t need any sorta fake arm. I mean, what kind of Angel am I? If I’m too broken to do something simple like-” 

Tony knocked his shoulder into James’s, interrupting him. 

“Hey, no,” Tony said firmly. “What did we say? We both agreed. You don’t get to call yourself broken-” 

“If you don’t call yourself old,” James finished, sighing. “I remember.” 

Tony picked up James’s chocolate, and handed it back to him. It was still hot, since it had frozen in time the moment James had let go. _‘Convenient, that,’_ Tony thought. 

James took a sip, but he was still obviously upset. He slumped against Tony, and Tony wound his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. 

Tony hadn’t meant to poke James’s insecurities about his missing arm. He knew what it felt like, to think you were broken. That sucking hole inside your mind that kept reminding you how much less you were than you’d been before. How you could never be the same. 

Fortunately, he’d had Pepper to help him out of it. Maybe he could do the same for James? 

“So,” Tony said quietly. “Do you remember a few weeks ago? When I said I should tell you the watering can story?” 

James nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said suspiciously. “Why?” 

“Well, you know after I got back from Afghanistan, I felt broken too. Not that it was like what you went through,” he added quickly. “I know you had it a lot worse than I did.” 

“It’s not a competition,” James snorted. “We both suffered a lot of trauma. Just cause mine was different-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony interrupted. “You’re right. I told you I suck at this therapy stuff.” 

“Anyway, after the whole...” Tony continued, waving his hand to take in his chest, “I felt broken. I mean, I was dying and so many innocent people had died because of me. I knew I could never make up for letting things get out of hand, letting Obie use me, use my company that way.” 

Tony paused and blew out a breath. He understood why James had snapped at him. Talking about personal injuries was hard. But he needed to do this if there was a chance it might help James. 

“I was depressed,” Tony continued softly. “I know that now. Part of the whole PTSD experience, right? But there I was, refusing to go to therapy, trying to deal with everything myself. And Pepper, bless her, kept trying to help. And I was _so_ not ready for help. I just wanted to be left alone, to wallow in my misery. So I picked a fight with her, told her I was broken. That I would always _be_ broken, and that she should stop pushing me. Told her to just do herself a favor and give up on me before I ruined her life too. But instead of blowing up she tells me a story.” 

He paused and looked at James, to make sure he was still listening, still interested. 

“And you think this story will help me?” James asked. He rubbed his shoulder, giving Tony an unimpressed look. 

“Honestly?” Tony said. “I have no idea. It helped me get a new perspective. That doesn’t mean it will help you. You can ignore it, or say it’s stupid. Whatever. I won’t mind. I’m not that sensitive.” Tony pouted, then sniffed dramatically. 

James’s mouth twitched, just a hint of a smile and he made a broad ‘go ahead’ gesture with his cup. _‘Success,’_ Tony thought. 

“Yeah, OK,” James said. “Tell me your very important story about a watering can.” 

Tony smacked him lightly on the arm. “It’s Pepper’s story. I’m just going to tell it the way she did.” 

Tony cleared his throat. “Once upon a time,” he said dramatically. 

James barked a short laugh. “Really?” he asked. “That’s how Pepper told it?” 

“Hush you,” Tony said, poking James in the side, almost a tickle. “I’m story-izing.” 

James set aside his empty cup and lay down, using Tony’s thigh as a pillow. He wiggled to get comfortable, and then arched an eyebrow, waiting for Tony to start again. 

“Once upon a time,” Tony said, “there was a water jar. A very handsome, very intelligent water jar. He was prickly and proud, but why not? He knows he’s the best. He might be part of a set, but he’s so much prettier than the other jar, and absolutely _perfect_ at carrying water.” 

James raises an eyebrow, but lets Tony continue. 

“He belongs to a family who lives in an arid, rocky land, but fortunately they live near a river. Every morning, the father gets up at dawn and walks down to the river, carrying the jars in a yoke across his shoulders, to get water for the day. Day in and day out, the jar does his job, and he’s appreciated for it. The family loves him, the neighbors admire him. Everything is great.” 

Tony pauses to take a breath. 

“Then one day, the man stumbles on a rock, and drops the yoke. The jar falls hard, onto the ground. It cracks right across the bottom, but it doesn’t break, not all the way. When they get back to the house, the man examines the jar, and then shrugs and leaves it in the yoke. But the jar is upset. Here he was, the best water jar _ever_ , and he’s been cracked, he’s been damaged! ‘No one could possible want me now!’ the jar moans. ‘They’ll throw me out as soon as they get a new jar!’ 

“The other jar hears him and says ‘Maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe you can still hold water. Give it a chance.’ So the jar is mad, but it’s not like it has much choice. 

“The next day the man goes to the river, and gets water. And the jar concentrates very hard on holding in the water. He really, really tries, but the water drips out, little by little. By the time they get to the house, the jar is only 2/3 full. The jar is just so angry. Here he’d been - a beautiful jar, balanced just right, and now he can’t do the job he was made for. And it wasn’t even his fault. If only the man hadn’t stumbled! 

“And so it goes. Every day, the man goes to get water. And every day the jar concentrates as hard as he can on holding onto it. He focuses every bit of his attention inward, trying to hold onto every drop. But every day, it’s a little worse. Soon he only comes back half full, then a quarter. In a few weeks, by the time he gets back to the house, he’s empty. Now the man has to make two trips to the river every day, just to have enough water for the family. And every day the jar becomes more depressed, and more angry. ‘Why do they keep me?!’ he wails to the other jar. ‘I am totally useless. What good is a water jar that can’t carry water? Why don’t they just get it over with and throw me away?!’ 

“But the other water jar just sighs and says ‘Tomorrow, on the way back from the river, instead of looking into yourself, you should look out around you.’ 

“So the broken jar pays attention this time. They walk down the bare and dusty path to the river, and the man fills him up as usual. But when they turn back to the house the jar sees what he’s missed all this time while he was trying so hard to hold onto the water. The path on his side of the trail is covered in flowers and herbs. They wind in a border alongside the path all the way to the house. They nod in the breeze, gold and red and purple. Bees and butterflies - everywhere. He sees the mother, walking the path, picking herbs, and smiling. He sees the children, picking flowers and making crowns to play with. He hears the man, humming as he walks back to the house, watching the flowers the whole way.” 

“‘Do you see?’ says the other jar. ‘I carry the water so the family can work, and clean and cook. But by _losing_ the water, you give them beauty. You make their day brighter. It is only _because_ you’re broken that this is possible. Perhaps you should accept the fact that you will never be a water jar ever again, and find happiness in being the best _watering_ jar you can be. Being broken is not the same as being useless.’” 

Tony paused. “And so the broken jar realized he was being an ass, and apologized to Pepper and got his shit together and went to therapy. The End.” 

James stared at Tony. He looked like he was going to say something, then changed his mind. After a moment, he tipped his head to the side. 

“Are you saying,” James said, squinting up at him, “I should give up on finding my Grace? Give up being an Angel, a creature of thought and energy, power and fire, one of the fiercest forces in the universe - and become a watering can?” 

Tony smirked. “Yep, you should be a watering can. The bestest, prettiest , watering can you can be.” 

James smiled. “So tell me, ‘Mr. I-just-admitted-I’m-really-cracked.’ Just what is the ex-Angel equivalent of your watering can? Just what am I supposed to do now?” 

“Ha, you think you’re funny but you’re not,” Tony said, poking James in the side. 

“Says you,” James replied. “I’m delightful.” He was smiling now, that real one that Tony’d started to love. Tony wished he could get him to do that more often. 

“You can be anything you want,” Tony said. “You don’t have to do anything at all, as long as your happy. You could go to school and try every major. You could write or draw or sing.” He hummed, and gave James a little leer. “Or you could be a model. An underwear model. Does Victoria’s Secret use guys? Cause you’re already an Angel...” 

James rolled his eyes and shook his head, expression fond. 

Tony ran his fingers through James’s hair, his expression turning serious. 

He reached out and took James’ hand. “Look, while we’re here you have all the time you want to figure it out. Isn’t that why you took this job? Time for yourself? And now you have it. All the time in the Universe. You just have to be open to the possibilities.” 

James held his hand tighter. “Yeah, you’re right,” James said, smiling. “I guess I should at least think about what I should do if my memories never come back. If I never find my Grace. And at least here I don’t have all the other Angels in my head trying to help me. Maybe now that I’ve got my head to myself...” He gave Tony a grin. “Let’s just get something straight, though. You may be a little children’s tin pail,” he said, looking Tony up and down, “but there’s no way I’m _just_ a watering can.” 

“Oh, absolutely. What was I thinking?” Tony said with mock seriousness. “You’re obviously more of an irrigation system, a drip irrigation system. Maybe a sprinkler? Oh, oh, I know. You’re a soaker hose.” 

Tony thinks James’s laugh is even better than his smile, but he doesn’t let that keep him from stopping it with a kiss. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> The 'watering can story' isn't strictly mine. I was told a version of it when I finally had to rely on using a wheelchair full time. It helped me to look at things in a new light. (One of the results being my try at writing!) So I wanted to share the story through Tony/Bucky. Maybe it can help someone else!


End file.
